Always
by Gaerdir
Summary: Severus Snape. The brooding professor. The snarky git. The stoic Headmaster. The eager young wizard. The elusive spy. Snape had many faces. But who was he? A collection of drabbles and one-shots written for "Hatest Character Boot Camp Challenge". In Progress.
1. Introduction

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**Always**

_By Gaerdir_

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"And thus I clothe my naked villainy

With odd old end stol'n out of holy writ

And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."

- William Shakespeare

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Severus Snape was an enigma.

He was a man full of contradictions. His life was full of lies, but he existed for only one truth.

He dealed in secrets, but was one of the most honorable and trustworthy men alive.

But in truth, we know nothing about the man himself.

"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table... Where's Snape?"

"Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully.

"Maybe he's _left_," said Harry, 'because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job _again_!"

"Or he might have been _sacked_!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him -"

"Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."

Harry spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze, stood Severus Snape. He was a thin man with sallow skin, a hooked nose and greasy, shoulder-length black hair, and at this moment, he was smiling in a way that told Harry he and Ron were in very deep trouble.

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

XXX

"What would your head have been doing in Hogsmeade, Potter?" said Snape softly. "Your head is not allowed in Hogsmeade. No part of your body has permission to be in Hogsmeade."

XXX

"Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business."

"Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git."

"Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."

"Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball."

"You might be laboring under the delusion that the entire wizarding world is impressed with you," Snape went on, so quietly that no one else could hear him, "but I don't care how many times your picture appears in the papers. To me, Potter, you are nothing but a nasty little boy who considers rules to be beneath him."

XXX

"Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "You know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready... if you are prepared..."

"I am," said Snape. He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

"It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and to utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."

XXX

"Shut up, Ron," said Hermione angrily. "How many times have you suspected Snape, and when have you ever been right? Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order… that ought to be enough."

"He used to be a Death Eater," said Ron stubbornly. "And we've never seen proof that he really swapped sides."

"Dumbledore trusts him," Hermione repeated. "And if we can't trust Dumbledore, we can't trust anyone."

XXX

LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily.

"Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you," said James earnestly.

"Take the curse off him, then!"

James sighed deeply, then turned to Snape and muttered the countercurse.

"There you go," he said, as Snape struggled to his feet again, "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus –"

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!

"Before I answer you, I say, let me ask a question in turn. Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?"

XXX

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, and indestructible."

XXX

"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes," Harry said stiffly.

"Yes, sir."

"There's no need to call me 'sir', Professor." The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying. Several people gasped, including Hermione. Behind Snape, however, Ron, Dean, and Seamus grinned appreciatively.

"Do you know what I think, Potter?" said Snape, very quietly. "I think that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me every Saturday until the end of term. What do you think, Potter?"

XXX

"He's a double-agent, you stupid old man, he isn't working for you, you just think he is!"

"We must agree to differ on that, Draco. It so happens that I trust Professor Snape."

XXX

Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.

"Severus... please..."

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. "Avada Kedavra!"

XXX

Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward –"

"DON'T –" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly demented, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them, " – CALL ME COWARD!"

"Look...at...me..." he whispered.

The green eyes found the black, but after a second, something in the depths of the dark pair seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, bland, and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more.

XXX

"The boy survives," said Dumbledore.

With a tiny jerk of his head, Snape seemed to flick off an irksome fly.

"Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?"

"DON'T!" bellowed Snape. "Gone… Dead…"

"Is this remorse, Severus?"

"I wish… I wish _I _were dead…"

"And what use would that be to anyone?" said Dumbledore coldly. "If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear."

Snape seemed to peer through a haze of pain, and Dumbledore's words seemed to take a long time to reach him.

"What – what do you mean?"

"You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son."

"He does not need protection. The Dark Lord is gone –"

"– The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does."

There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last he said, "Very well. Very well. But never – never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear… especially Potter's son… I want your word!"

"My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?" Dumbledore sighed looking down into Snape's ferocious, anguished face. "If you insist…"

XXX

"So the boy... the boy must die?" asked Snape, quite calmly.

"And Voldemort himself must do it, Severus. That is essential."

Another long silence. Then Snape said, "I thought… all these years… that we were protecting him for her. For Lily."

"We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength," said Dumbledore, his eyes still shut. "Meanwhile, the connection between them grows ever stronger, a parasitic growth: sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will, truly, mean the end of Voldemort."

Dumbledore opened his eyes. Snape looked horrified.

"You have kept him alive so that he can die at the right moment?"

"Don't be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?"

"Lately, only those whom I could not save," said Snape. He stood up. "You have used me."

"Meaning?"

"I have spied for you, and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter –"

"But this is touching, Severus," said Dumbledore seriously. "Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?"

"For _him_?" shouted Snape. "_Expecto Patronum_!"

From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe: she landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape and his eyes were full of tears.

"After all this time?"

"Always."

Snape was regarded as the lowest of the low when he killed Albus Dumbledore that fateful night, and made his great escape. We have seen glimpses of his memories and life, felt his pain, laughed at his wit, shrunk from his rage, were awed at his words, and shuddered at his trials.

He was the killer of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, yet he was his man through and through.

He was a spy of the greatest caliber, but for a cause that only the most loyal would pursue.

We know why he did what he did.

But knowing only raises more questions.

Do we know _**him**_, the person?

Just who is Severus Tobias Snape?


	2. The End

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**The End**

**Prompt: Cold**

_By Gaerdir_

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_"Every man's life ends the same way. It's only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another." - Ernest Hemingway

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Severus Snape lay on the floor, blinking slowly at the ceiling above him.

Cold. Why was it so _cold_?

He shivered slightly and tried to wrap his arms around his body. But his body just wasn't responding.

He could feel the blood spouting from the fatal wound inflicted on his neck. The Dark Lord's snake hadn't held back.

He could still bitterly feel the shot of hope that had passed through him, when Voldemort had slashed THE wand, taken from Dumbledore's cold, dead hands, sharply through the air. He had, somewhat impossibly, thought that he had been spared on his master's whim.

The dread he felt on seeing that sphere hurtling towards him was second to only the cold he felt now.

Snape knew he had failed to complete the last mission entrusted to him by that bastard of an old man; the man that had used him, and revealed his dastardly plan once his purpose had been completed. Caring for the boy, praising him, testing him, encouraging him. And all for what? The old headmaster had just been growing Potter like a pig for slaughter.

Yet Snape knew that there was only one way to defeat Voldemort.

Potter had to die.

But he didn't know it.

Snape snarled in frustration as he tried to summon the strength to complete the one last important task. He feebly tried to staunch the deep bite marks in his neck. It was to no avail. He slumped to the floor as blood continued to gush from the wound. Then, the crate blocking the entrance from the Whomping Willow lifted. Snape stared in shock at the crate, and then jerked back to reality as he heard running footsteps.

A shimmery, silver cloak was thrown off, and Snape found himself looking at the object of his thoughts. His eyes widened perceptibly as he realized that Potter had been present for the conversation with Voldemort. Snape tried to speak, but the world seemed to be getting colder and colder. Potter took that moment to lean over the potion master's dying body, and Snape took that chance and seized the front of the boy's robes.

"Take… it… Take… it…" He rasped horribly in Potter's ear, as he drew closer and closer to the edge. He forced his memories to flow from his body in a last ditch effort to let Potter know the truth. Potter would inherit the entirety of his memories with any relation to his job, but hopefully the boy would know how to navigate the memory and find what he needed to find. Snape began to slacken his grip on the Chosen One's robes as silvery blue material began to flow from his mouth and ears and eyes.

The Granger girl, bless her, kept her wits about her and conjured a flask to hold the memories. She thrust it into Potter's shaky hands. The wizard began to lift the memories into the flask, and by the time he was done, Snape felt as if all of his blood had pooled around him.

In a last ditch effort, Snape whispered to the son of his greatest enemy, and his dearest love.

"Look… at… me…"

Green, _no, _emerald eyes found his black ones in the dim light, and looked at him in concern and confusion. Snape sighed; glad to see something positive in those eyes, before he let himself go.

_Lily…_


	3. Keep On Going

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**Keep On Going**

**Prompt: Elf**

_By Gaerdir_

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"When you're going through hell, keep going." - Winston Churchill

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The storm outside raged on, the flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder testaments to some sort of titanic war being waged in the heavens that night. The rain seemed to be an unstoppable force, beating down any obstacle in its path, save for an old castle that stood as an immovable body, weathering the storm as it had for centuries. The wind howled in frustration and began to push the rain faster, increasing the severity of the storm collecting around the castle.

Amidst the noise and chaos, a figure clad in black appeared atop a nearby hill. He immediately stumbled at the ferocity of the storm, his cloak swirling and billowing as it caught the wind. He lifted his wand and muttered a spell at himself, causing the rain to deviate from his form. The man crept forward gingerly, before giving a cry of pain. His left hand subconsciously rose and clutched his right side, before he grabbed a vial from his cloak, and downed it in one gulp. He then returned the glass bottle to his pocket, and straightened and walked towards the castle.

XXX

"The Dark Lord wishes Draco Malfoy to undertake this task, Headmaster."

"Ah, the son must be punished for the failures of the father… What a shame." Dumbledore said ruefully. "Am I to assume that he expects Draco to fail?"

"I am of the same mind, Headmaster."

"And you will be the one expected to carry out the task?"

Snape hesitated. "I believe that is what the Dark Lord expects…"

"Very well, then. We shall have to work a way around this… I expect it will be rather complicated." Dumbledore sighed. "Thank you, Severus, for coming to me. I shall ask Fawkes to take you to your home. You of all people know what must be done after a meeting with Tom, if my suspicions about your condition are right."

Snape winced and shifted, his left hand ghosting over his right side once more.

"Ah… Voldemort's Cruciatus has transcended to a whole other level, compared to the formidable ones wielded by his Inner Circle. Not only does it cause immeasurable pain, but also leaves deep flesh wounds." Dumbledore said while stroking Fawkes. "I suspect you actually got off rather easily, seeing that he likes you. Fawkes will help take care of that wound, and then we shall accompany to your home."

Snape nodded once, before ripping away the blood soaked cloth around his right side.

Dumbledore drew in a sharp breath, before coaxing the phoenix to fly over to the spy's side.

"You ought to have gone home, Severus. That news could have waited until you were better." Dumbledore said chidingly. "Do not forget to take care of yourself while taking care of your duties."

Snape grunted, and turned his attention to the red bird crying over his wounds. Already, he could feel the muscles knotting together and hear his ribs snapping back into place. His skin seemingly grew out of the red flesh, and covered it, leaving his body in an untouched condition.

"You will still be rather sore, and so, you must not return to Tom's side for a couple of weeks. If he does ask, lay the blame at my feet." Dumbledore ordered, before offering his arm, the other up in the air for Fawkes to perch on. "Now come, my dear boy, let us go to Spinner's End."

Snape took the proffered arm, and in a flash of fire, the two men disappeared.

XXX

Snape lay in his bed a few hours later, twitching from the overload of his nervous system. The amount of sensory information that had been poured into every nerve, stimulating torture of unimaginable heights, had caused his nervous system to fry. He found himself helpless, unable to react quickly, as sure victim in the chessboard of Light and Dark. The brief respite offered to him by the presence of the Headmaster and his companion, Fawkes, had all but faded, leaving him feeling the full effects of the Dark Lord's curse.

A cool hand touched his feverish brow.

"Master is feeling not-well. Lippy will get the numbing liquid, Lippy will." A high, squeaky voice announced.

Snape nearly sighed in relief. Lippy would be able to get him the potions he needed.

A vial was held to his parched mouth. He opened silently, and quickly, the blue potion was poured in, offering almost immediate relief.

While normally, a victim would stay in Hogwarts, under the smothering care of Madam Pomfrey, Snape knew that he was probably the best-suited to dealing with post-Cruciatus exposure.

He had been on both ends of the curse… and on the receiving side more often lately.

Snape sighed. Dumbledore had been right. If he wanted to enter the game at full strength, he would need to take this little reprieve to recover, and use his impressive mental faculties to survey his mind's protection. His role as a spy was always in danger when he was placed under his Master's curse… the pain and overloading of the sensory networks always sent his mind reeling.

He came back to his senses when a wonderful scent made its way up to his hookish nose, overloading his brain in another way. Snape suddenly became aware of just how _ravenous _he was, his time at Voldemort's side, and his subsequent short-lived rest leaving him no time to address his body's physical limits.

"Master Sev must eat this soup Lippy is made! Master has not eaten properly for few days, Lippy can see!" The house-elf insisted.

Snape opened his mouth to speak, but could not, for his throat was choked with emotion. The rush of affection he felt for his little friend was so intense, it took all of his considerable mental barriers to prevent tears from welling up in his eyes.

"Y-Yes, Lippy. I'll eat the soup." Snape said shakily, lifting a trembling hand.

"Lippy says no, Master! You is not feeling well! Lippy will feeds you!" Came the insistent reply.

Snape couldn't think of words to say. His faithful house-elf, who had been with him since the first few years he had left Hogwarts, was all he had left. His life had become a mere tool in the hands of the two Lords of Magic, who represented two opposing poles of ideology and style. Snape always felt disconnected from the world, yet here he was, crying over the simple words of a house-elf. He was still human after all.

Snape just silently let the elf feed him, thanking her softly as he finished the bowl. Lippy just nodded determinedly, before setting off to the kitchen, presumably to make more.

Snape lay back down in his bed, staring wonderingly at the ceiling.

He had often wondered recently why he did what he did. Why he put his life on the line every time. He loved a dead woman, was that his only motivation? How macabre.

But now, he supposed, he also fought for the right to live free.

Free to live and remember Lily Evans, and honor her friendship.

Free from his duties. From his shackles that chained him to two masters, forever doomed to be used as a weapon.

Free from his regrets, his pain, his suffering, his ordeals.

Free to live a life lost in his potions research, ready to make a mark on the world.

He had his little house-elf friend, faithful, helpful Lippy, and he had his lab. What more could he ask for in the times to come?

As long as he had a future to dream for and a past to honor, he would keep on going.

After all, it was not only for the Greater Good, but for his as well.


End file.
